


Can't Sleep

by ardentmuse



Series: Harry Hart Imagines [3]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Heavy Petting, Kingsman!Reader, Kissing, Making Out, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: Sharing a hotel room with you while on a mission is just a difficult as Harry thought it would be.





	Can't Sleep

Harry couldn’t fall asleep, not with your body curled up just a foot or so away from his. No, he was hyper-aware of your presence: your smell, your light sighs, the constant sway of the blankets with each calm inhale-exhale, your heat radiating towards his side. It was intoxicating, just as he had imagined it would be all those nights he laid himself down at night in his own bed and took himself in hand as he imagined you beside him, on top of him, under him. And Lord, how much he hated himself for those thoughts come morning.

He wanted you desperately and this, being forced to share a bed with you, to play as a couple for the sake of the mission, was killing him. Every grab of your hand or wrap of his arm around your waist came a bit too naturally to him. Every uttered “darling” or “dear” was a slip of the tongue that he’d been holding back for months. And listening intently to you, talking with pride about you, laughing as you engaged him in conversation, was exactly what he wanted to be doing from this day forward. And now here you were, in the same bed, as a couple should be, and Harry was having a hard time returning to colleagues. He’d tasted the sample and now he wanted the real thing; you, as his, always.

He turned his back to you, curling on his side and looking out into the darkness of the hotel room, street lights sending faint streaks throughout with each subtle wave of the curtains. Harry tried to focus on their movement, but of course the back and forth the air conditioning created in the fabric seemed to match in time with your breathing, only drawing his attention back to you. Always back to you.

Harry sighed. He needed to sleep. A glance at the alarm clock alerted him to the precious few hours remaining until the brunch you had to attend. Any yawns or dark circles around his eyes were only going to cause a few off-color jokes from the target about how Harry must have had a good night with you to be so exhausted. Committed to the cover, he knew you’d just blush and curl into his side, murmuring something about how every night with your boyfriend was a good one. Even just thinking about you acknowledging a sex life, although fictitious, with him was enough to make him groan.

“Harry,” he heard your voice call out, raspy in sleep.

He turned to you, his knees grazing yours as you too curled inward.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered, as though unsure if you were actually awake.

“Go to sleep,” you mutter, reaching over to stroke his arm in a way you clearly thought was soothing, but was indeed having the exact opposite effect. Your fingertips left a heated path of raised hairs and goosebumps in their wake, like electricity sparking the very parts of himself he was trying so hard to keep hidden from you.

As you pulled your hand away, the feeling stayed and before you could return it to pillow under your head, Harry found himself grabbing your wrist before he could think better of it.

You tensed at his touch, causing a wave of regret to immediately chill him, but you quickly relaxed. He was glad his touch was merely unexpected, not unwelcome.

“I,” Harry started, gently stroking his thumb over your pulse. Your eyes were not on his but intent on where your hands met, as though captivated by the motion. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

You shifted your gaze to now meet his eyes. You were biting your lower lip in a way you often did when you were concentrating, just the bottoms of your two front teeth visible. What he would give to taste you right now.

After a moment, you curled your fingers upward to interlock with his that had previously been stroking your wrist. Now it was Harry’s turn to be caught off guard. You scooted a little closer, moving your head to the edge of your pillow nearest him. “I can’t sleep either, Harry,” you admitted.

“But you seemed so peaceful and your breathing was regular,” Harry said in confusion. He was seriously hoping you hadn’t heard his groaning and shifting, wondering if you could put together the puzzle of lude images his mind had been conjuring of you to his dismay.

“We’re spies, Harry. Of course I can fake sleep. Best way to surprise the enemy,” you told him with levity. Harry chuckled.

He found even still with your fingers interlocked, he couldn’t help but let his fingers continue to stroke at your delicate skin. He had been holding your hand all day, but this grasp had been the only one he was sure you chose because you wanted it. He didn’t know what to make of it, but wasn’t going to question his fortune.

“And what is keeping you up?” he asked.

You let out a deep breath. “This is a little weird, isn’t it? Sharing a bed?”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed hesitantly. He knew what he meant but he felt cold in the pit of his stomach that you might mean weird as in completely detestable.

“I just feel so awkward. I’ve wondered what it would be like to sleep beside you for so long and we’re both just stiff as boards. It’s awful,” you said, so quickly it hardly registered to Harry.

After a moment, he processed the words. He felt his heart begin to race, his fingers stopped their gentle caress of your palm. Did you just say you’d wanted to know what it was like in his bed? Did you mean it? Had you wanted exactly what Harry had wanted this whole time? His mind was working at warp speed, building up all the wonderful possibilities, but he quickly stopped himself. He had to get you to clarify. He couldn’t assume. 

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“We’re being really stiff,” you replied with a nervous laugh.

That was a half-answer. “You said you wondered what it would be like to sleep beside me. What did you mean?” Harry practically whispered, now so worried that your dismissal of his question meant you regretted the words you spoke.

“Did I?” you asked, full of innocence. And there you go with that damned lip bite again.

“I believe you did,” Harry said, soft and sympathetic.

Much to his dismay, you pulled your hand from his and began to turn over. As you flipped, he heard you mutter, “Well, shit.”

He had fucked up and made you feel bad for what you said. He needed to get you back. He had no idea when this opening would return to him, if ever. “Y/N, darling, please don’t turn away from me.”

You had buried your head in your pillow. Completely closed off from him. He heard your voice, tiny and contained, “Please don’t call me that.”

Harry lifted himself from the mattress determined to get closer to you, to get you to understand that he wasn’t asking you what you said in judgement but rather in hope. “What shouldn’t I call you?”

You were hugging the blankets to your chest now, curling even smaller than you had been sleeping previous. “Darling. Please don’t call me ‘darling’.”

Harry reached out to stroke your arm as you had for him. He couldn’t think of what else to do. “Why?” he asked.

“Because it just makes me believe that you want this too,” you said into the pillow.

Harry’s heart nearly stopped. You may have said it shy and sheepish, but you said it again. You wanted this. To share a bed, to have this intimacy, to call each other ‘darling’ and ‘love’ and really mean it.

He leaned over your body as you lay, curled, cold, and dejected. He wanted to laugh, so warmed at his own stupidity for not realizing you’d felt the same, but he held it in, not wanting to make you feel shame or embarrassment at your admission.

“Darling,” he said emphatically, gently pressing into your shoulder to regain eye contact with you. He felt you wince at the pet name. You still refused to meet his eyes. “Darling,” he said again, this time pulling himself to hover over you. “Darling, look at me,” he said again, now stroking beside your ear facing him.

You did as he asked, showing him your reddened face and watery eyes. This time he did laugh.

“Darling.” Harry added in whisper as he held your gaze.

“I asked you to stop.”

“Not until you know I mean it,” Harry whispered as he hovered over your form, holding your gaze. He uttered one last ‘darling’ for good measure.

Without a word, you turned to your back, slowly lifting your hands to caress the face of the man hovering over you. Harry leaned into your touch, unable to control his desire to be closer to you. He saw where confusion had previously been on your face replace itself with passion. Your eyes widened, your lips pulled together in the faintest of smiles, your cheeks burned a red that he couldn’t see but that he could feel radiating off of you. Harry moved his arms to either side of your head as you pulled him down to meet your lips.

The initial touch was hesitant; feather-light touches of plump flesh which quickly pulled away, heavy breathing creating a tingle where wetness remained. But when Harry pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact never breaking, he saw as something snapped in you. You lifted your chest to meet his, desperate for as much physical contact as possible, and pulled him down to your kiss, now bruising and hot. Harry smiled against your lips as he returned your ferocity.

You were making out like teenagers and Harry couldn’t stop smiling. Hands roamed each other’s bodies with explicit purpose. You caressed his jaw, his cheek, his neck and shoulders until finally resolving on tugging gently on his hair, pulling and moving his head as necessary to deepen your kiss. Using one arm to support himself overtop of you, his second hand stroked up and down the side of your body, from your hip up your waist and higher, your chest tightening and nipples perking in anticipation of something that never came. All the while, your lips continued to fight for dominance, Harry enjoying the gentle nips of his upper lip you continued to send his way and the swift swipes of your tongue causing shocks to his core each time your tips made contact.

He wanted to consume of you, pull his lifeforce from the little shuttered exhales you gave during the brief moments where your lips separated. God, you were perfect, writhing and bucking underneath him, arching yourself closer to him with the rhythmic cascades of your hips into his thigh. He moved his lips down to suck on your jaw and neck in earnest. You shivered at his teasing hands which finally ghosted over your nipples, forcing him to reposition himself between your thighs fully.

When the hardened, sensitive part of himself made contact with your heated core, it was like being doused in ice water. Harry immediately pulled himself from you and shot upright, nearly to kneeling between your legs. It took you a second to open your eyes, shocked by the sudden change. When you met his eyes, he could see the hurt in them.

“This is wrong,” Harry said, immediately watching your lip quiver. He quickly retracted, “Not wrong in that I don’t want it. Darling, I want you so desperately. You are smart and kind and overwhelmingly beautiful. I’m the luckiest man that you might want me in your bed. But this isn’t the way it should be,” he paused to breath. “Our first time together shouldn’t be late at night in a fancy hotel room that Kingsman’s paying for.” Harry removed himself from above you and returned to his position resting on his side beside you.

Calmed by Harry’s words, you turned in order to listen to him.

He reached out to hold your neck as he spoke. “It should be late at night in a fancy hotel room that I’m paying for.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

Harry laughed too. “It is a subtle distinction, but one that matters.”

You stared at each other for a long time while holding hands, but it wasn’t awkward. Your sexual tension was now partially resolved with a verbal commitment to fully resolve it in the near future. You both felt peace for the first time since this damnable mission started.

Harry watched as your eyes began to droop, closing every few seconds for longer intervals each time.

“May I hold you?” he piped up, pulling you awake from one of your longer dips.

Too tired to speak, you nodded.

Harry scooted closer to you, positioning himself more comfortably on his back before pulling you forward so your head rested on his chest. He weaved his arm around your shoulders, securing you into his side.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” he whispered before peppering the crown of your head with delicate kisses. With you nestled securely into the crook of his arm, an image he had pictured a million times before but he knew now failed to live up to the joy of the real thing, Harry was finally able to find sleep.


End file.
